


Catalyst

by Bethofbells



Category: The Mindy Project
Genre: F/M, Wiener Night, writing letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:06:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethofbells/pseuds/Bethofbells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When do you know? Danny and Mindy go their separate ways after Christina's show, but their thoughts remain with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Letters

**Author's Note:**

> So, I decided to take a mini-break from my other long fic, and write something short set in the timeline of the new season. I liked it. As always leave comments and suggestions. I love them.

Mindy tucked her hands in the pockets of her coat and levered herself up off the curb. She couldn’t help but look one last time in the direction Danny had walked off. She was confused. There was a feeling bubbling up inside of her that shouldn’t have been there. She wanted to pull out the leggy brunette’s hair. 

She reached up and touched her cheek where Danny’s lips had been moments before. Where had that come from? He’d invaded her space and laid it on her unexpectedly, before getting up and awkwardly patting her one the shoulder. There had been a moment, before he’d made that move, when she thought he would brush off the brunette’s advances. She’d felt herself hoping he would tell the woman to buzz off and just stay with her. That unexpected longing freaked her out, so she’d urged him to go.

She tried to shake off the feeling and strode resolutely down the sidewalk in the direction of her place. She pulled her phone out and popped her earbuds in. She thought listening to something would take her mind off of it. She intentionally chose Katy Perry. Screw everyone who didn’t like her taste in music. She scrolled through the tracks to find one from her debut album. _Ur So Gay_ popped up. She listened for a minute before frowning and turning the music off. So not every song was a gem. Whatever.

She shoved her phone back in her pocket. It’s not like it would have worked anyway. She couldn’t stop thinking about those damn photographs. When she’d seen the tamer versions in his apartment months before, she’d been surprised, but not shocked. Mostly because she couldn’t believe Danny had actually agreed to hang them. Now, though, she was shocked, and it wasn’t because of the nudity. Not really anyway.

He looked so vulnerable in them. He was naked in more ways than one, and it was hard for her to reconcile the fact that Christina was the one who had engendered that openness. Stupid Christina. She didn’t even realize what it took for Danny to be that free with himself. When the lights had gone down and the ridiculous demon overlay had popped up, Danny had looked so hurt. There wasn’t even outrage in him. This was just another betrayal. 

He’d looked around him at everyone gaping at the images. He’d looked so lost. She’d felt that hurt and embarrassment for him, and hadn’t been able to stop herself from jumping up in front of everyone and causing a scene.

She understood why he never opened up to people. It seemed like every time he did, something like this happened. His openness was often betrayed. She actually felt a bit blameworthy herself, if she could be honest. She’d seen that look of betrayal before, if only briefly.  
The night she’d cut her hair for Casey he’d looked at her without any guards up. Stared at her really. It had stolen her breath and caused a brief moment of panic. She’d quickly shoved the image of Casey between them to stop whatever he was thinking. Now she was playing the what-if game in her head. What if she hadn’t said anything? Would he have leaned closer?

She would never know. A fleeting wave of pain flashed across his face when the words had left her mouth. The shutters quickly slammed down to hide it. 

She shivered as a gust of wind blew across her legs and picked up her pace. Their relationship was different now for sure, but it was also beginning to be weird. She found herself sitting at home some nights, ok almost every night, rifling through the letters he’d sent her in Haiti while she marathonned reality TV. 

Reading his letters was oddly soothing for Mindy. They were like a glass of wine at the end of a hard day, and it didn’t hurt that it made her feel like the heroine in a Jane Austen novel. They sat in a neat pile on her night stand. She felt herself smile and relax as she read them. The letters were the major catalyst for change in their relationship.

He’d told her he liked her letters because she didn’t ramble on in them. Well, she liked his for the opposite reason. He told her all kinds of things in his letters. He told her about the mundane day to day stuff at the office. He told her about his brother and his mother. She’d even gotten some glimpses into his past. 

The well-stocked book shelf in his bedroom should have been a clue to the articulate and verbose writer she found in his letters. She’d been so worried that the night in the lounge would destroy all the work she’d done trying to get Danny to be her friend, but the letters had built the bridge again. She felt like she knew him better after the months spent apart.

She’d been so tempted to keep writing him, even after she’d gotten back, but it seemed a little weird. She hadn’t known how she would explain it to Danny, and she’d really had no clue how to explain it to Casey without seeming duplicitous. How do you tell your fiancé that you want to write private letters to another man?

Mindy’s growing stomach pulled her from her reverie. She was starving. She’d skipped dinner before the show so she’d have more time to get ready, but now it felt like her stomach was devouring itself. There was absolutely no food in her apartment. She cast about for the nearest place to eat and her eyes fell on a corndog cart. Greasy and wonderfully unhealthy.

She dashed over to it, for a moment forgetting the thoughts she’d been preoccupied with.

-

In spite of the cool night air whipping around him, Danny felt the flush of alcohol still on his skin. He was uncomfortably warm. The woman walking next to him had threaded her arm though his and was leaning against him suggestively as they walked. 

She placed her face next to his and whispered in his ear. “So, Danny, I hardly think it’s fair that I’ve seen all there is to see of you, and you stand here in complete ignorance of what’s going on under this.” She plucked at the collar of her blouse in an obvious attempt to be flirty.

He smiled. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. He had to tilt his head up to look into her face. She was pretty in a way. What was her name? Dawn? Donna? Something with a D. He couldn’t recall. “That’s easily remedied.”

She let out a tinkling laugh. It sounded hollow and contrived as it fell on his ears. It was a laugh she’d probably given a thousand times to a dozen different people. She wasn’t really amused. It was one of those laughs. She arched her brow and looked back at him. “My place is just around the corner here.”

He felt her take charge of where they were walking. It was so easy. He needed this, didn’t he? He was done pining after someone who had no interest in him. He had to stop wasting his time and just live. Waiting on Mindy to view him as more than a friend wasn’t going anywhere. He’d given her one last chance, to say something to make him stay, and she’d basically thrown him at this Daisy woman. Daisy? No, that wasn’t it either.

Her behavior had made sense when she was engaged to Casey. He understood that she’d made a commitment and wanted to stick it out, but she’d been single again now for a while, and now she was going after every guy who flirted with her and not even glancing at him.

He felt so ridiculous around her sometimes. His carefully placed armor would just fall at his feet, and he’d be standing there with his stupid heart on his sleeve, and yet she was totally oblivious. He had an entire catalogue of “incidents” in his head that made him cringe every time he thought about them. He could tick them off, one by one, using only a word or two in description. Valentine’s Day. Santa Fe. The Lounge. Voodoo Princess. 

He cared about her, and it pissed him off. He didn’t want to care. It bothered him when the guys she dated treated her badly. It worried him when she made rash decisions that put her in danger. He just wanted it to be the way it was before she’d started playing this friendship game. Her determination to make him her friend had actually done something else.

“Right here.” Diane’s voice cut through his thoughts. Diane? That really sounded right. She directed him to the steps in front of a nice building. 

He felt led in his feet. There was something stopping him from following her up. He slipped out of her grasp and turned to face her. “Look, Diane, I’m really not feeling this right now. That show kind of screwed me up. I can’t stop thinking about… my ex. I just think I’m going to head home.”

She stepped back with a disgusted expression on her face. Danny was surprised she was so incensed over him not coming up. It actually boosted his ego a bit. She continued to glare at him. “Excuse me, but my name is Rebecca, first of all.” She flipped her hair. “And I was doing you a favor. You looked like such a sad sack sitting on the sidewalk with that tubby little Indian girl.”

She whirled away from him and stomped up the steps. His brows furrowed and an angry expression settled across his features. “Hey, don’t talk about her like that, you don’t know her. She was the only person in that entire place on my side.”

She stopped at the door and looked down at him. “Maybe your ex-wife is so pissed at you because you’re in love with little miss defend-you-honor. Maybe you should go hunt her down tonight instead of being rude to me.” She twisted her key in the lock and swung the door open, quickly disappearing into the building.

Danny stood on the sidewalk, frozen in place. His mind turning in lazy circles. Go find Mindy? Well, maybe he would. Maybe he would just go over to her place and tell her what he’d been thinking for the past six months. Maybe telling her everything would make it all go away.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and marched back down the sidewalk in the direction of her apartment.

-

Mindy wrapped the pink bathrobe around her and cinched the belt tightly. She had to do this before she lost the courage. She grabbed the envelope off the table and hurried out the door. There was a mail box directly in front of her building. If she dropped it in now, it would be done and over with. She’d be left to face the consequences in a day or so.

She strode to the elevator in the hall and mashed down the call button. To her surprise, the elevator opened almost instantly. The breath caught in her throat when she saw Danny standing in front of her. Her palms were uncharacteristically sweaty. She quickly hid the one holding the envelope behind her back. 

Danny glanced down at the giant fuzzy slippers on her feet, his gaze travelling up to the puffy pink bathrobe. “Mindy, what are you doing?” 

Her eyes were still wide with disbelief. Was it possible to physically conjure someone by simply thinking his name a thousand times? “What am I doing? I live here. That’s what. What are you doing?” She kicked herself. She really had no good excuse for why she was wandering around in her bathrobe at this hour.

Luckily, Danny seemed to be a bit unsure of what he himself was doing. He reached up and placed his hand on the back of his neck, looking away from her. Ah-ha. That was a sure sign. Whatever it was, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. “I, uh, well… I just wanted to make sure you got home alright… yeah, because I walked you to the gallery, and then that writer guy, well, he just left. So you were alone…”

He was still standing and the elevator, and Mindy was still gaping at him from across the threshold. The doors started to slide shut again. He swung his arm out and stopped it, stepping out into the hall beside her. “Wait, you still haven’t said what you’re doing, going down in the elevator, not even dressed. It’s cold outside, Mindy. Where are you going?”

She angled herself so he couldn’t see the hand behind her back. A slow smile spread across her face when she heard his words. If he were telling the truth, which it didn’t seem likely, but if he were, then it meant that he was worried about her. It meant that he cared enough to blow off a sure thing. If he were lying to cover something else up, then she could only speculate what he was hiding, but even then, she grew warm at the thought.

She smiled at him. “Would you believe me if I said I was sleepwalking?” She plastered a hopeful expression across her face, but he only returned an incredulous frown. “No? Well, you’ll have to just accept that I’m not going to tell you what I was doing, because it’s something I’d rather keep to myself.”

She leaned forward and pressed the call button with her free hand again, quickly slipping into the elevator when it opened. Danny followed closely. 

Mindy slipped the letter into the front pocket of her robe when Danny reached forward to press the button for the lobby. He looked back down at her. “You’re really not going to say? You’re so weird sometimes.”

They rode down in silence. Danny followed her curiously when the elevator stopped. Once they were out in the street, she strode purposefully to the blue mail box. Her hand darted quickly into the pocket of her robe. Danny saw a quick flash of white before she thrust it into the box. “You’re mailing a letter? At this time of night?”

She turned back to him. “Wow, Danny, you’re so observant. You figured out I was mailing a letter when I put a letter into a mailbox, and you also know what time it is. You’re a regular Dr. Sherlock.” She strode past him back to her building.

He called after her. “Sherlock wasn’t the doctor, Watson was.” 

She turned back at him, “Goodnight, Danny.” Smiling brightly, she slipped back into her building. Waiting until she was safely confined in the elevator before she let the reality of what she’d just done sink in. Her eyes widened and she felt panic rise in her chest. “Oh god, what have I done?”


	2. Correspondence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this one. I'm thinking this story is going to be four or five chapters long. I'm working on not getting caught up in writing ridiculously long fics (because I gradually lose interest in them, and I find it hard to complete them).

Mindy tapped her foot impatiently as the elevator ascended. She nervously adjusted the belt at the waist of her coat. It was 7:00 am, far earlier than she usually arrived at the office, but she was hoping to get there before Danny had a chance to sift through his mail.

She let out a sigh as another number finally lit up. One floor at a time, slowly but surely she would arrive. That’s how elevators worked, right? They didn’t actually take you through a portal to another dimension where Beyoncé was president, and people didn’t mail letters they should have just kept to themselves. If only.

Finally the blessed ding sounded, and Mindy flew through the doors before they were completely open. The office was quieter than she was used to. The hum of the air conditioner blowing out warmth into the office and the ticking of a clock somewhere were the only things to break the silence.

She tiptoed around the secretaries’ desk, feeling a little ridiculous in her trench coat and oversized sunglasses. She’d forgone the fedora, but still felt like the femme fatale in a B-list noir film. It had seemed like the right choice this morning, but now she would be hard pressed to explain her outfit if someone were to burst into the office.

She lifted the sunglasses from her face and settled them on top of her head, picking up stacks of paper and methodically flipping through them. No mail. What the hell, Betsy? This whole situation made Mindy realize she didn’t exactly know the inner workings of this office. Did the mail get dropped off here at all? Did Betsy go pick it up at the post office? All she knew was that when she arrived at 9:00 there was a stack of correspondence already on her desk.

She felt her anxiety building. Her stomach flipped and her throat constricted. She bent over and dry heaved. Why the hell did she write that letter? Danny was always telling her that she was too impulsive. She’d been riding the residual feelings that had pooled inside of her when she’d seen the hurt expression on his face and later when she’d watched walk away with the brunette.

The realization that she was losing the closeness generated by their letters sent a wave of disappointment over her. She missed him. He had become her go-to friend, but his letters had been her only window into his life. That’s what had prompted her to send the stupid letter.

She shrugged off her coat in frustration, draping it over the back of Betsy’s chair. It had been two days since that night, and she had felt confident about her decision at first, coming into work with a little vibration of anticipation in her chest.

She’d found herself staring at Danny with expectancy, ready to face the music. She’d fully expected to walk into work the next day and have him immediately call her into his office for a confrontation. Nothing had happened. The day went by exactly as it always had, her and Danny having a couple normal interactions. Nothing strange, although he did ask her why she kept looking at him like he had something on his face.

The day had passed, and Mindy was afforded an entire night to dwell on the implications of the letter. It was enough to make her edgy the next day, jumping every time someone knocked on her door, glancing up at secretary’s desk. Still nothing. If anything Danny was a bit more indifferent to her than usual. He’d been completely engrossed in his work.

Last night she hadn’t slept at all. She’d tossed and turned, getting up multiple times to walk in circles around her apartment. The letters, such a reassurance before, were screaming at her from the night stand. She’d angrily snatched them all up and stuffed them in her top drawer.

Now she was determined to find the revelatory scrap and destroy it, but she’d gone through every piece of paper on Betsy’s desk and found nothing. She seized her coat and stalked over to her own office, swinging open the door dramatically. It was dark still, the dim light of early morning barely casting a glow across her desk.

She stepped over to her desk and flicked on the lamp. A swift surge of surprise overwhelming her when she saw a solitary envelope sitting on her ink blotter. Completely blank but for her name quickly scrawled across the front of it. She recognized the handwriting immediately. She’d seen it often enough in the passive aggressive notes left on sandwiches in the break room fridge. Danny.

She breathed in tentatively, afraid to make a sound, gingerly reaching forward and laying her fingers on top of the envelope. Without removing her hand she sat down in her chair and stared at it. She was almost afraid to open it.

She never expected him to read her letter and then write back. That had been the unrealistic fantasy. In her head, the ideal outcome had been that she’d write Danny, and he’d write her back, just like he had done when she was away, but they’d stay exactly the same at the office, until one day…

Well she hadn’t really gotten that far in her imagination. What did she really expect to come from this? There was a small bit of hope in her, seeing the letter lying on her desk. Maybe he reciprocated her feelings but found it hard to articulate them. 

She slipped her finger under one edge of the envelope, tearing across the top and pulling out a solitary page covered in writing. She took a deep breath and began to read.

-

Danny sat on the edge of his bed buttoning up his dress shirt. It was far too early to be getting ready for work, even for someone as overly punctual as Danny, but he hadn’t been able to sleep. He fastened the last button and glanced over to his nightstand. The cause of his insomnia innocently lying there.

He reached over and picked it up, noting the faint scent of lavender that still clung to it. Mindy’s hand lotion. The one she applied before she went to bed at night. He’d noticed it standing in her hallway the night he’d followed her home. The familiar scent had wafted over to him, triggering the memory of those nights while she’d been away. He’d never noticed it before she started writing him from Haiti. It permeated every single one of the letters he’d received. She must have written them right before going to bed each night.

He looked down at the hastily scrawled lines that trailed across the stationary. He read it for the tenth time.

_Danny,_

_First of all, how dare you? How dare you turn back into the grumpy old man I knew before? It’s really not fair. I mean, you write me all these long and insightful letters like you think you’re F. Scott Fitzgerald or something (yeah, I haven’t actually read The Great Gatsby, but I did see the movie, so don’t start), and then you go and pretend you’re still this silently suffering macho man, but you tell me you kept the letters I sent you? I just don’t get it. I feel like we developed this deep friendship with our correspondence and it’s just slipping away now that I’m back, and every time I try to talk to you about it someone or something interrupts us and we never get around to it._

_I guess this is a roundabout way to say that I miss you. I miss the letters. I still have all of yours too. I’m going through friend withdrawals, Danny. I find myself rereading them late at night before I go to bed, and I have to stop and ask myself, “What the hell am I doing?” because it’s the kind of thing that a lovesick high schooler would do. I shouldn’t have to reread your letters to feel close to you again. If we’re really friends, I should be able to call you when I want to talk, but I can’t, because I don’t know if we really are friends, and it pisses me off._

_Tonight was the worst, too. I saw those pictures, and I was so jealous of Christina (I mean really, I never knew you had it in you to be so vulnerable) and so mad at her and all of her pretentious friends. I was mad at Jason and Brendan and all those people who were looking down their noses at me, but you were right there, standing beside me, at my side. Tonight was the first time I’d even seen glimmer of the closeness we’d shared through our letters, but it disappeared shortly after._

_And that woman… I know I told you to go with her, but there’s always been this little part of me that has thought people could read my mind if I just thought hard enough, and I was mentally screaming at you. I didn’t want to have to tell you to stay. I wanted you to choose our friendship over a one night stand. I wanted you to pick me, and you didn’t. What surprised me was the feeling I got watching you walk away. I was jealous. Jealous of a tall, sort of attractive, probably much older than me, brunette. I mean, look at me, I have no need to be jealous. I’m hot, ok, and not just that “hey, you’re curvy, rappers must like you” kind of hot, but legitimately hot to people of all creeds and cultures. I was jealous because you were walking away with her and not me._

_And it’s not because I’m some lonely spinster jumping at the person standing nearest to me, ok. Jason actually tracked me down on the way home. He apologized, and he wants to continue dating. The only thing is, I don’t know if I’m interested at all. You were right, he treated me badly, talked down to me, and I don’t know why I felt the need to prove myself to him, or to any guy for that matter, but it’s how it has always been. You’re the only person I’ve ever known who sees my faults as something merely on the surface. You know who I am deep down, underneath them all._

_I’m rambling here. I know you don’t like that, but I’m ramping up to something. I have to build up to it because it genuinely terrifies me. What if our ability to be close friends is indicative of something else? What is this between us? I’ve never had a guy friend like you. I’ve never felt jealous when one of my friends went off with someone else. Danny, I’m starting to think there may be something else here, and if there’s any chance that you’ve felt it too, well, I have to know._

_Mindy._

_P.S. If I’m totally off base here, let’s just say that I had as much to drink as you tonight, and you can disregard this letter._

_P.P.S. Who am I kidding? I had one glass of champagne and a corn dog on the way home. I’m as sober as a nun._

Danny laughed to himself. The letter was exactly the kind of thing he expected from her. He was actually surprised when most of the letters he’d received from her while in Haiti turned out to be so short and to the point. Only a few of them slipped into her normal cadence.

He refolded the paper and slipped inside the drawer of his nightstand, tucking it in beside the others. She wasn’t the only one who reread the letters at night. He’d been doing it since she’d gotten back. One particularly rough night had been the very day she’d arrived back home. He’d been crushed when she’d announced her engagement to Casey, and he’d felt ridiculous about it.

He’d come home that night and reread all of them, looking for any indication that something like that was coming. He’d found nothing. In fact, the last dozen or so letters didn’t even mention the pastor. Danny had deluded himself into believing that it wasn’t working out. He’d finished off an expensive bottle of scotch and fallen asleep with the letters strewn across his bed. Christina had been off at some art show in the city, leaving him alone in Jersey.

Her almost-wedding had been a tough one too. It had been the last moment he’d opened up to her. It was beginning to be a ridiculous pattern. He’d open up to her, say something reassuring, and then she’d just smile and tell him she wanted to be with another person. So after that night he’d stopped. No more softly spoken words by open windows. 

Mindy had broken off the engagement, but still Danny felt gun-shy around her. She’d never shown any interest in him, and he had begun to think that whatever he was feeling because of her letters wasn’t real in some way. This latest one had his palms sweaty and a giddy bloom of hope expanding in his chest. 

It had been on the very top of the stack of mail sitting on his desk when he’d arrived at the office. He’d immediately recognized the handwriting, and a frown of confusion spread across his features when he looked at the return address. “Ms. Pad Thai.”

As he’d sat at his desk and read it, he became immediately thankful that he’d come to work early. His absolute inability to lie about anything would have made an encounter with Mindy terribly awkward, and at first he had no clue how to respond.

It took him an entire day to write her a letter in response, and yet another one to screw up the courage to leave it on her desk after she left. He’d found himself marching over to her office on multiple occasions, ready to just confront her outright, but something stopped him. There were many times with Mindy when he became flustered and tongue tied. He hadn’t wanted this to be one of them. Taking the time to compose a letter was exactly what he’d needed in order to tell her how he really felt. It was almost as if she knew that.

Now, a strange calm settled over him. He’d been nervous all night, but it wasn’t a fearful nervousness. It was a curious feeling of anticipation. He wanted the day to come as quickly as possible. He wanted her to read his letter, and he wanted to see the expression on her face when she realized what she meant to him. The only downside was, most of the office would be there to witness it, and while he was open to Mindy being in his life, he didn’t really care for the nosiness of everyone else.

He rose from the bed, retrieving his jacket from the closet. It was early yet, but he couldn’t wait around here any longer. He needed to get out of his apartment and get the day started. He headed out the door, a lightness carrying him on his way. She was right, there really was something here. 


	3. Reply

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one may be a little sappy. Some may find Danny's letter a little OOC, but I kind of intended that a little. Trying to show that his letters were more revelatory for Mindy or something... As always reviews/comments are always appreciated. I think this story is close to being completed. Maybe a couple more chapters.

CH 3

Mindy looked down at the paper in her hands. She wondered what a handwriting analysis expert would have to say about Danny’s extremely compact and uniform handwriting. Every bit of space on the paper was used with utmost efficiency. Tightly wound yet messy, her heart skipped at the sight of it, remembering his other letters. Alright, stop stalling and just read it, Lahiri.

She dug an extra pair of glasses out of the first drawer of her desk and settled them on her nose, picking up the paper again and taking a deep breath.

_Mindy,_

_Or should I say, Ms. Pad Thai? Someone should really teach you proper letter writing etiquette. ‘How dare you?’ isn’t really something you open with. A pleasant ‘How have you been?’ is a bit more appropriate. So I’m going to pretend that’s what you asked and the answer is: I haven’t been doing so well. I feel like I’m being pulled apart sometimes._

_You see, it all started months ago when this incredibly irritating woman I work with decided that she just couldn’t accept being merely colleagues. She has this crazy notion that you have to be friends with every single person in your day to day life. It wasn’t something that I could get on board with in the beginning, and it drove her nuts. She thought it was because I disliked her. She couldn’t have been more wrong._

_I’ve always liked her. I can still remember the first time I met her. It wasn’t one of those meet-cute things she’s always talking about. I’d seen her around. I believe we’d even exchanged pointless small talk, but the first time we actually met is still imprinted on my memory. She was a first year intern, sitting in the hospital cafeteria, taking up an entire table with charts and books. Her hair was pulled back out of her face, but half of it had escaped the tie, trailing down her back. She was hunched over, concentrating on some text, the muffin and extra-large coffee momentarily forgotten. I had unconsciously stopped, looking down at the books, caught by the expression of attentiveness on her face._

_I don’t know how long I stood there before she looked up and said, ‘Oh, good. I need some help with this, sit down.’ She cleared out a spot on the table and looked up at me expectantly. When she looked up at me I froze. I’d never seen such an open countenance before. I experienced this very clear thrill of attraction, and I’ll be honest, it threw me off. I was a married man, and I did love my wife at the time, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt that thrill._

_I helped her, but I wasn’t nice about it. I took little digs at her knowledge and of course she took the opportunity to take a dig at my age, which is something she still does. Our antagonistic relationship began, but I’ve never stopped feeling that kick when she walks into a room._

_It became more difficult over the years. My marriage crumbled, and I became even more closed off than before. By the time I was ready to entertain the idea of pursuing another person, she was in a serious relationship with this dentist jerk, and our antagonism had reached unexpected levels. It really seemed like a lost cause. I mean, we fought over everything. Sometimes I would get into an argument with her, and halfway through it I would forget what we were arguing about, but I couldn’t stop. It was so much easier if she was at arm’s length._

_But, like I said, she got it into her head that we should be friends, and once she gets something in her head, it’s impossible to fight it. I was extremely reluctant at first. There was a part of me that was annoyed. She wanted to change our relationship, but not in the way that I’d been thinking about for so long. I wasn’t sure if I could be just friends. I’m still not sure._

_So, Mindy, when you ask ‘How dare you?’ I think you already know the answer. I’m not an open book. I couldn’t be if I wanted to. After I got your letter, it took me two days to even formulate a response. I thought about just walking into your office and telling you all of this, but I knew we’d just end up arguing about whether or not Leo DiCaprio was better as Gatsby or as J. Edgar. (You already know what I think.)_

_That’s what always happens. I always know what I want to say when I start up with you, but then I’m standing there in front of you, watching the sunlight fall on your skin in an interesting pattern, seeing the pleased sparkle in your eyes when you make a joke, smelling your perfume on the air, and it all just evaporates. Distractions. You’re a being entirely composed of distractions. My heart beats faster and my palms begin to sweat, my thoughts scatter. So I just latch onto the first thing you say no matter what it is and rib you about it._

_You’re right about the letters. We did develop a closeness. You know, I still have yours. I hid them from Christina, which I suppose is telling. She always thought there was someone else. It was hard to convince her otherwise. There were several occasions when I would get up in the middle of the night to read the letters. I guess there really was someone else._

_I felt close to you, which is why it hurt so much seeing you walk toward Casey at your wedding. I thought I was losing you, even though I never really had you. Can you see it from my perspective? The idea of you marrying someone else stung. It stung so much that I knew I had to distance myself. I don’t like the pain of heartbreak. Who does? I couldn’t allow myself to care even more. In my head I knew we were just friends, but in my heart I knew that our friendship only magnified what I already felt. It pains me when you make heedless decisions that leave you hurt. That feeling you got when I walked off with ‘the brunette’ is nothing compared to what I felt watching you walk toward him. Would you enjoy feeling that way at least once a week? Do you understand why I’ve been avoiding you?_

_Trying to distance myself proved futile. I still care. In a way that scares me sometimes, because I’ve never cared so much about anyone, not even my ex-wife in our best times. It’s a heady combination of fear and hope. I find myself unable to say anything. The possibility of rejection is too much, because, even though I’ve fought it, you are my friend, and I can’t risk losing that as well. For a long time that fear has won out, but now the hope is building._

_Your letter has opened up place in me for that optimism. The past two days I’ve felt like a different person, just bursting to tell you all of this, but I knew I had to do it this way. I really needed to lay it all out for you. There is something here. There always has been. Do you want to do something about it?_

_Danny._

_P.S. If I find it in me to actually leave this on your desk, you better believe we are going to have a conversation._

Mindy lowered the page to the desk. Wincing when a tear splashed down on the page, blurring the ink where it landed. She grabbed a tissue from the desk and carefully blotted it, before attending to the moisture on her face. 

Oh, Danny. She placed her hand on her chest, forcing herself to take a couple of shaky breaths. How could she have been so blind? She felt another sob creeping up. What a waste. To have known him all these years and yet not known him.

She glanced at the clock. It was only 8 o’clock. There was an hour left before anyone else would be streaming into the office. Fifty minutes before Danny himself walked in. Mindy couldn’t wait. She didn’t want to waste any more time. She tapped her foot impatiently, watching the second hand move slowly around the clock face.

She retrieved the letter and carefully refolded it, tucking it into the pocket of her trench coat. She couldn’t sit here and wait. Shoving away from her desk, and hurried exited her office, making her way to the elevator. Danny wanted a conversation, well it was going to come sooner rather than later. 


	4. Dear Danny, Dearest Mindy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF ALERT!... But seriously, this one is a bit saccharine. I liked it though. I'm thinking this may be the last chapter for this fic, it's kind of wrapped up. As always comment are appreciated and taken under advisement. Thanks for reading! :D

CH 4

By the time Mindy got to Danny’s building, she was practically running. She’d bumped into a few people and gotten quite a few dirty looks, but it didn’t slow her down. She stopped abruptly at his stoop, taking the time to catch her breath before mounting the steps. 

Once in the lobby she stood waiting for the elevator for a moment before her impatience got the best of her. Someone must have already been on their way up. She turned to the stair well and hurriedly began the climb to Danny’s floor. About halfway up she felt a stabbing pain in her side. She stopped for a second clutching at it. “Damn it!” It was a feeling she was all too familiar with, although she hadn’t felt it since her middle school PE teacher made her run laps.

She took a deep breath, vowing to join a gym, and soldiered on, ignoring the persistent pain. After twenty stories, ok so it was like two, she finally reached the landing to Danny’s floor. Panting, she made her way over to his door and rang the bell. When he didn’t immediately answer, she buzzed it again, and again and again. She felt like an overzealous girl scout trying to unload the last of her cookies on some unsuspecting old geezer.

“Danny, I know you’re awake. You’re too punctual to not be getting ready for work already!” She reached forward with the hand not clutching at her side and pounded on the door. Nothing. She bent at the waist, trying to breathe normally again. She moaned. “At least I didn’t puke this time.”

“Mindy?” A concerned voice echoed in the hall. She turned, and there he was, standing ten feet away, a small brown package in one hand, and his messenger bag draped casually over one shoulder. She was standing fully again, still clutching at her side and breathing a bit heavily.

At the sight of her, the color drained from his face and he dropped his package and bag to the floor, closing the space between them in a heartbeat. He grabbed her by the shoulders, squeezing gently before moving down her arms, giving her a pat down of sorts. “Mindy, what’s wrong? Did something happen? Did you get mugged? Are you hurt? Why are you here?” The questioned spilled from Danny in a quick succession, leaving no pauses for her to answer.

He raised his hands to her face, placing his palms on either side, looking into her eyes. “Have you been crying? Mindy, what is it?” There was a slight panic edging his voice. 

All the things she’d been planning to say fled from her mind, and all she could do was stare. He was silently imploring her to speak. The expression on his face utterly worried. She couldn’t find the words. Instead she reached down to the pocket of her coat and slipped out his letter, putting it up between their bodies like a shield.

He leaned back, in confusion, peering at the paper in front of him. Understanding dawned on him and he took a full step back, dropping his arms to his side. He took a deep breath and ran one hand through his hair. “So, I take it you read the letter.” He looked down at his feet, almost sheepishly, but when he glanced back up at her there was a hopeful little half smile on his face.

That was it. That was all she needed. The words began to pour from her mouth as her eyes brimmed with tears again. “Danny, I missed you so much when I was in Haiti, but I’ve missed you even more since I’ve been back.” She blinked and the pooled tears cascaded down her cheeks. “And I kept telling myself it was because you were my friend, and that I didn’t want to lose that friendship I’d worked so hard for, but that was only a small part of it.”

The tears kept coming, she felt them run down into the collar of her jacket. “There’s something so much bigger here, but we’ve never been able to get the timing right. There was a brief moment after coming back from Santa Fe when I considered the possibility of us. That moment on the plane made me realize you’re someone I would want to cling to. That I would be ok facing the end with you, but there was Casey then, and Christina popped back up.” She took a gulp of air, fighting the urge to sob. “I’m having the strangest feelings right now. It’s hard for me to believe that we’ve finally gotten the timing right.” She took two quick steps forward, throwing he arms around him in a tight embrace. “And I just… I just..” She was hiccupping now, like an overly emotional child.

Danny encircled her with his arms, holding her just as tightly as she clung to him. He’d been so worried when he’d seen her there at the door, bent over and holding her side. Then when he’d seen her face, a million worst-case scenarios had run through his mind.

He raised one hand up, placing it on the back of her head, running his fingers down through her hair. “Mindy, I…” He trailed off. He didn’t want to scare her by telling her everything at once. There would be time for that, and he still suspected he was much further along than her. “I missed you, too.” He kicked himself. He’d overcorrected. “A lot.” He grimaced. He pulled back slightly to look down at her face, brushing away the tears still resting on her cheeks. “I, uh, I’m not as eloquent face to face, I guess, but if I need to, I’ll write you letters every day until you understand that I feel exactly the same.”

He leaned down and kissed her gently, tasting the salt still on her lips. She eagerly returned the kiss, pulling back to look at him a couple times before returning to his mouth.

Danny felt a contented sigh rise up through his chest. He couldn’t believe what was happening right now. He wished they could take the day off and spend it together, but it really wasn’t practical. There needed to be more than one doctor at the office. He kissed her soundly one more time before pulling away, trailing his hands down her arms. “It’s early. I’m sure you haven’t eaten breakfast. Let’s go to that café by the office and grab a bite to eat.”

She smiled up at him, slipping her hand into his and nodding in agreement. “God, I wish we could skip work today.” She leaned into him as they walked toward the elevator. “But, Jeremy would probably have a fatal panic attack if we both called in sick.”

Danny laughed. “Or clean out the fridge. It really could use it. You know…” He squeezed her hand before he bent down to pick up his bag and the package he’d dropped.

She looked at him curiously. “You know, I didn’t think to ask, but where were you returning from so early in the morning?” 

They stepped into the elevator and began to ride down. “Well, I had some, shall we say, anxiety about you reading my letter. I couldn’t sleep. It was too early to go to work, so I decided to take a walk.” He hefted the package wrapped in brown paper. 

She was still staring at him curiously, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t she let out an exasperated puff. “And?”

He shifted slightly uncomfortably. “As I was walking, I found myself stopped in front of a little bookshop. It’s odd that I’d never noticed it before. It’s in this neighborhood.” Danny felt a slight flutter of embarrassment in his chest. “Anway, there was this book in the window, and…” He paused before shoving on. “It, uh, reminded me of you.” 

He unceremoniously handed the package over to her. “The lady that works there asked if it was a gift, and when I said yes, she said she could wrap it up for me, and I didn’t argue.” 

Mindy fingered the edge of the paper before her curiosity got the better of her. She ripped into the paper, tearing it away eagerly. When she saw the cover, she dropped the paper to the floor. Her fingers flew to the gold leaf title, tracing the letters before she smoothed palm across the leather binding. “Danny, this…”

He filled the silence. “In your letter, you said I write like F. Scott Fitzgerald. I mean, I kind of think I’m more like Hemingway, a real man’s man and what have you, but when I saw this in the window…. I don’t know, something clicked.”

Mindy was speechless. She glanced down again at the book in her hand. _Dear Scot, Dearest Zelda_. “Danny, this is just, only the most romantic thing I’ve ever…” She leaned forward and kissed him again. “You sweet softie. You bought me a book of love letters, I just can’t…”

The tears were welling up again and Danny quickly tried to play it off. “It’s just a bunch of coincidences, Min.” He didn’t really believe the words. The woman at the bookstore had made an offhand comment about how she hadn’t seen a copy of that book lying around in years. That particular one had come in that morning in a box from an estate sale.

Mindy sighed happily. “When will you learn, Castellano? In the best romances they’re not called coincidences. They’re called signs.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, briefly sneaking a glance up at him, the wonder on her face rivaling that of the most smitten school girl. She had a feeling it was a look she’d be wearing a lot.


End file.
